


Drifting

by ambientwhispers



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Breathplay, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambientwhispers/pseuds/ambientwhispers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original kink meme prompt: I want some Anders/Justice breath-play, pretty much. Could be they are still sharing the same body, could be that they're separated. I just ask that you keep it consensual please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drifting

On any other night, his books and scrolls would be organized in neat piles on the desk, but tonight they were scattered in an unorganized mess. Anders had been busy with yet another draft of his manifesto to show to Athena, the scion of the Hawke family, but he couldn’t focus. He’d done his best, but it was, as usual, a losing battle.

His mind wandered unbidden to Athena…Nena. The way her leathers clung to her soft curves, the way they accentuated the swell of her hips, how her soft silhouette always appealed to him. The way she assumed her archer’s stance with such natural confidence, each arrow nocked and drawn with perfect precision.

He thought of the light linen dresses she wore when not fighting, the kirtle always showing at the neck and sleeves of her simple gown. Sometimes, when she leaned over the table at the Hanged Man just _right_ to reach for her tankard or perhaps to gather her winnings in Wicked Grace, Anders was sure he could see her chemise through the gap between the kirtle and her smooth skin. The sight always thrilled him—it was such a scandalous and intimate thing, seeing the single piece of clothing closest to her skin, even if it was just a glimpse.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear the images from his mind, and began to pack away the scrolls. Once he had cleared the desk, he took off his coat and tunic then shucked his trousers onto the floor, next to the simple cot where he slept. He pulled the covers back and lay down, then curled up under the bedclothes and did his best to shove Nena from his mind.

He tried to sleep, but every time he drifted off, another vision wormed its way into his mind. They were simple at first: Nena lacing her fingers through his as they walked, or perhaps him draping an arm over her shoulders, pulling her flush against his body. The longer he let it go on, the more fantastic they grew—stealing a kiss after a battle, tracing his fingertips across her exposed collarbone, convincing her to accompany him into a dark alley for a quick tryst…

In the end, Anders turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. He had managed to tangle the bedclothes around his legs, but he didn’t care. He threw the covers off and exposed the top half of his body.

He ghosted his fingers down his taut abdomen as he tried to ignore Justice’s nudges within his head. He felt the soft curls in his groin beneath his fingers, followed by smooth skin as he wrapped his hand around his erection. A quiet moan escaped him as he slid his hand up his length. As the foreskin moved over the sensitive ridge of the head of his cock he shuddered, the feeling so exquisite it sent a jolt through him.

Anders released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His vision swam for a moment, and he paused as he shook his head in an attempt to clear the feeling.

 _It felt fantastic, didn’t it?_ a voice nudged in the back of his mind.

It had, he had to agree. For the few moments his mind had fogged, the feel of his hand on himself had intensified just enough to intrigue him.

 _Do it again._

Anders drew another breath as he picked up the movements of his hand. The longer he held his breath, the more he felt a sense of freedom, until his lungs started to burn. He exhaled, and the first breath he drew in set his head swimming.

 _Not long enough. Once more, Anders._

He closed his eyes and took a slow breath, resolved to hold it longer this time. The sensation amplified with each passing moment, each stroke of his hand, each time the foreskin rolled back over the head of his cock. His lungs burned once more with the need for air, and in his thoughts, he heard the echoes of Justice urging him to keep going, to hold the breath longer yet.

When he at last gasped for air, it was punctuated by a soft groan as the pleasure grew again. He could swear he almost soared high above his dusty cot. His brain seemed to scramble to regain its grip upon reality, to push aside the haze that threatened to swallow his consciousness. He blinked away the black spots at the edges of his vision as he began to rock his hips up to the rhythm of his strokes

 _That was an improvement. Again._

The more times he did it, the faster his lungs screamed for air. His hips bucked up into his fist in a pale mockery of sex as his eyes closed again it all only served to multiply the pleasure that spread through his body. He groaned, a low desperate sound, as his body undulated of its own volition.

He was on the brink, he could tell, but he had to…

 _Well done. One final time, Anders._

He drew one final breath without even waiting for his head to clear first and sped up the strokes of his hand along his length and thrusted his hips forward with more desperation. The pressure built behind his balls, he could feel his cock swell in his hand…

With a harsh shout and rough exhale, he felt the hot strings of his own seed splash across his stomach. Even after the spasms stopped, his hips still bucked for a few moments and his chest heaved with the effort to obtain _enough_ air. If it hadn’t been for the solid cot beneath him and the blankets tangled around his legs, he could have sworn he had begun to fly. The spots faded from his vision much slower than they had appeared, and his breathing grew more normal, less urgent.

He picked up the well-worn cloth from the crate next to his cot and swiped it across the now-cooled spend on his stomach. He dropped the cloth to the side of the cot— _I’ll clear it in the morning, too tired to do it now,_ — turned onto his side, and tried his best to push the images of Nena from his mind again.

Only now, after he had finished, did he realize that for once Justice hadn’t chastised him for the fantasies he’d had of her in his mind.

Perhaps the spirit had given in to his curiosity after all—just a little.


End file.
